I’m 18, still tethered to my parents’ crumbling world. My family’s been scraping by, paycheck to lousy paycheck, barely keeping our heads above water. Recently, though, Dad landed a gig at a new company, and the big boss—some loaded geezer around 65—caught wind of our desperate situation. This guy’s got it all: a sleek ride, a fat mansion, grown kids. But there’s one glaring hole in his empire—no wife by his side. So, when Dad started his probationary stint, this millionaire tossed out a twisted deal: one million rubles, cold hard cash, if Dad could hook him up with a “bride” for a single night. The catch? She’s gotta be under 20, weigh no more than 55 kilos, sport a B or C cup, be all natural, and polished to perfection.

Guess who checked every damn box? Yours truly. I hated the thought from the jump, but seeing my folks struggle day after day gnawed at me. I wanted them to taste financial freedom just once, to live without pinching pennies. So, against every screaming instinct, I said yes. I rolled up to some fancy hotel, steeling myself to just endure this hellish night and get it over with. I thought I’d braced for the worst, but oh, was I clueless. In walks Dad’s boss, smirking like the devil himself, and drops a bomb: “Did your old man tell you there’s one key condition to seal this deal and get me to cough up the cash?” I shook my head, clueless. And then he laid it out, and… to be continued.

#darkdeal #desperation #familystruggle #twistedbargain